Sam Winchester does not Cuddle
by Lady Perditus
Summary: Dean wakes up in the middle of the night only to find out his baby brother has fallen asleep practically on top of him. No slash! Oneshot. T for language, set in season 1.


**AN: SHAMELESS BROTHER FLUFF. I was so tired the other night and this idea randomly flew into my head with a screeching demand to be written.**

**(After a bit of wiki'ing poltergeists on the Supernatural wiki, poltergeists can be salted and burned. I didn't actually know that. :3)**

**Disclaimer: Seriously, I don't own Supernatural. Nor do I own Sharktopus, I Love Lucy, or any Chuck Norris movies which are briefly mentioned.**

**Takes place in Season 1. ^-^ The Winchester boys were so adorable back then.**

**Summary:** Dean wakes up in the middle of the night only to find out his baby brother has fallen asleep practically on top of him. No slash! Oneshot.

* * *

It was early night by the time the sleek '67 Chevy Impala parked in the dingy motel's parking lot. The scene was quiet except for the rumbling of the gravel beneath the car's tires.

Dean Winchester exited what he deemed his 'baby' and rolled his shoulders back, satisfied to finally be off the road. While he normally had no complaints about long road trips, eleven hours in a confined space with his brother and no rests was straining his patience. He was tired, hungry, and uncomfortable.

Their previous hunt had taken place in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, with a poltergeist that was none-too-happy to see the pair of hunters. It called for a salt and burn operation, and all things considered it went well despite the infamous Winchester luck.

The brothers escaped without any life-threatening injuries, although the older of the two did get thrown around the cemetery quite a bit. (Namely getting tossed into a tree, but hey, hazards of the job.)

Sam threw his duffel over his shoulder, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. "You got the credit card?"

"Uh, yeah, give me a sec," Dean responded, hand flying to the back pocket of his jeans where his leather wallet rested. His fingers flew to the sleeve in which multiple plastic cards were tucked into. The green eyed man half-flung, half-slid a blue card across the roof of the Impala.

Sam thanked him with a nod and made his way over to the motel's front desk to get a room for the night. _I swear, if they ask me if I want a king-sized bed…_

Fortunately the middle aged woman handed over the room key with no quip, smiling and wishing for her customer to have a good night. The younger Winchester walked back to Dean, the cool metal pressing into his palm.

As they easily found the room number, the older brother could have sworn he saw a dark shadow slink across the parking lot from the corner of his eye. Just as he was reaching for his .45 mm kept in his waistband the foe launched from the shadows, hissing.

Dean steadied his stance, fully prepared to fight before he scowled, narrowing his eyes at the now revealed enemy. "Friggin' cats."

Sam turned to him, an amused expression written all over his face. He raised an eyebrow, looking between the black cat and his brother. In the end he chose not to make a snarky comment _(no matter how tempting) _and instead opened the door to their room.

In all honesty, it was nicer than he was expected. Yeah, so the wallpaper was pretty hideous, but it had the necessities. Two beds, a bathroom complete with shower, a small fridge, and a small T.V. with its own couch.

The room was impressively clean and well kempt for a roadside motel that clearly didn't have many customers. _Home sweet home._ Dean straightened a crick in his neck and ungracefully fell back on the light brown cushion of the rather long couch.

"Get me a beer, would you?" He smirked, motioning to the red cooler Sam had brought in. His brother rolled his eyes at his request.

"Seriously? Can't get off your lazy butt?" But nonetheless he withdrew two bottles and sat down on the cushion next to Dean. The latter reached for the cheap, black remote, surfing through the channels. Nothing was sparking his interest, the only thing that appeared to be airing was poorly written movies _(Sharktopus? Is this what we have come to?)_, soap operas, and reruns of _I Love Lucy._

"Ugh, nothing is on." Dean complained, duly noting that Sam had already pulled out his laptop and was typing away, probably looking for another job. "Sammy? You know we can take a break every now and then."

"Yeah, sure." The younger Winchester mumbled, pointedly ignoring Dean's 'request'. He continued to scour the news headlines, hoping that something would strike his interest, or would scream _supernatural! _Containing a growl that was threatening to rumble from his throat, Dean leaned across the couch, quickly closing the top of the laptop. Sam pulled his fingers back to avoid having them crushed, sending a scowl towards his older brother.

"Dude." Dean began, his eyebrows coming together to turn into an expression that could only be described as worried, and possibly a small amount of fear. The kid was going to work himself into the ground at this pace. He wanted to find his father as much as Sam did, but disguising his frustration through working nonstop was no way to go about it. "Calm down. We'll look in the morning okay? Just get some sleep."

"Whatever." Sam reopened his laptop, oblivious to the incredulous look Dean was shooting at him. He sighed loudly, clearly trying to vocalize his disappointment at the apathy his younger brother was showing towards his self-care.

"I'm going out. You want your rabbit food?" Dean stood up, snatching up his car keys as he paused at the motel door.

"Not hungry."

The older Winchester rolled his eyes, resolving to go against Sam's wishes and bring him back a salad anyways. He ventured out in the poorly-lit parking lot and towards one of his most valued possessions.

Starting the Impala, he took off down the road, enjoying the company of only his thoughts and the low hum of the engine.

* * *

Dean returned to the same scene he left over 45 minutes ago. Sam had not moved and his eyes were still glued to the brightly lit screen of his laptop, the reflection of the webpage illuminating on his concentrated face.

_You're kidding._

"Eat up Sammy!" He chirped, tossing the plastic container of the salad directly at his brother. It landed on the keyboard and for the second time that night Sam gave him a bitchface.

Though he would never want to admit it out loud for Dean to hear, the younger brother didn't realize how hungry he was until he saw the food.

"No fork?" He raised an eyebrow. Dean pulled out a plastic fork with all intents to throw that as well. Sam raised his hands. "Whoa. I got it, thanks." He exclaimed quickly, pushing his computer off of his lap and standing to get the utensil himself. _A fork in my eye would definitely ruin my night._

Eating in a comfortable silence, Dean glanced up at his brother. While he didn't want to have a 'sharing and caring' moment it was obvious his younger sibling was not okay, seeing as their dad was _still_ missing, Jessica's death was still hanging over him and the nightmares were not appearing to come to a cease.

"Hm?" Sam asked, mouth stuffed with lettuce leaves. He did not want to call Dean out on his staring, but it was almost making him uncomfortable at this point.

The older Winchester briefly considered vocalizing his concerns before shaking his head. It wasn't worth it. Knowing Sam, he'd either brush it off or get pissed and think he was trying to coddle him or something equally as ridiculous. _Dean Winchester did not coddle people._

"Nothin'." Finishing the last of his burger he balled up the tin foil and tossed it onto the motel room's carpet. He wiped the remaining grease on the closest napkin and chuckled at the glare Sam gave him.

"Dean. Really?"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Samantha." He raised his hands in surrender, an arrogant smirk still plastered on his face. He bent down to pick up the trash and neatly tossed it into the waste bin.

Despite the exhaustion settling in his limbs, Dean didn't think he'd be able to sleep quite yet, thus reasoning he should wisely use his time to do something productive.

So he returned to the couch and resumed channel surfing, stopping when he came across a Chuck Norris movie _(the guy was awesome)_. Leaning against the armrest, he settled into a comfortable position, one eye trained on the movie and the other looking out for his brother.

It was no surprise, really, that when he finished his rabbit food he went straight back to doing research. Dean rolled his eyes, knowing when he was fighting a losing battle. If Sam really wanted to deprive himself of sleep then nothing his brother could say or do would change that fact.

So he was content to let him be sucked into his nerd state of mind while he took a break and listened to the kickass sounds of Chuck Norris in the background. Truly realizing how tired he was, Dean closed his eyes and succumbed to the safety of his sleep.

* * *

Groaning softly, the older Winchester brother forced his heavy eyelids to open, awakening to a blurry scene like he was looking through smudged glass. Blinking the sleep away he squinted at the clock beside the bed on the opposite side of the area and sure enough, in bright, green numbers **3:12 A.M. **glowed clearly against the dark contrast of the motel room.

_Damn, _Dean cursed silently. He very rarely ever fell asleep on the couch and he was positive in the morning he would feel the stiff muscles and aching ligaments from remaining in an upright position all night. _I didn't realize I was so tired._

It was only as he was shifting his body to stand up did he notice the unusual weight leaning against his right arm. Immediately Dean froze. _The hell…?_

And when he turned his head to see exactly what was _laying_ on him, he didn't know whether to burst out laughing or be amazed. He settled on gaping…sure, he didn't know what to expect but this was definitely not it. Hell, it wasn't even at the bottom of the list of '_What the Winchesters should expect_.'

Sammy, his baby brother, the one who _insists _on being called Sam because he was an adult now thank you very much and went to college and managed to survive just fine without Dean's care, fell asleep on top of his older brother. His head was in the crook of Dean's elbow with his right arm curled near his chest. The younger brother's freakishly long legs were sprawled haphazardly across the rest of the short couch with one leg on top of the opposite armrest and the other hanging off the cushion and situating itself so that his foot was placed firmly on the ground as though he were in a sitting position.

The familiar sight brought on a wave of nostalgia for Dean, reminding him of the days of their crappy childhood where they'd sometimes be forced to share a bed in whatever dingy motel room they resided in at the time. Of course, that had been years ago and the tradition ceased around the time Sam had turned 14 and discovered the desire for independence.

The older brother was torn between waking him up and just letting sleep there despite the bitching he would surely receive in the morning. Just as he was reaching over to shake him awake he hesitated. The kid hadn't slept this well since Jessica's death…what harm could a few more hours do?

* * *

"Mmf…" As Sam began to pull himself back to the reality of the waking world he was aware of the fact his head was resting on something that he was most certain was _not _the pillow of his motel bed. He cracked open an eyelid and wishes he didn't.

The smiling face of his brother is the first sight Sam saw that morning.

"Morning Samantha!"

"Ah!" The younger Winchester jerked awake, successfully falling off the couch. Startled, he stared at his brother with his mouth agape. "What the hell Dean?!"

"Hey," Dean defended, starting to stand up and stretch his stiff legs. "It's not my fault you decided to cuddle last night."

"Did not!" Sam argues, clenching his jaw and trying to ignore the heat that was rushing to his cheeks from embarrassment. He was always going off on how he was an adult and then he goes and reverts back to the days before he was a teenager. Clearly it wasn't his fault…he was just…tired. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You woke yourself up," His brother responded, skirting around the question as though he were treading on eggshells. "Just now."

"Bullshit—there's no way you didn't wake up at least once during the night. Why didn't you just…I don't know—shove me off and go to bed?!" Sam's tone is almost accusing. He was trying to deflect the situation's awkwardness (because really, how else would one describe it?) by pinning the blame on Dean.

"I wasn't about to wake you up." His voice is soft and leaves the younger brother feeling like a jerk. Sam can't argue it's one of the better nights of sleep he's gotten in a long time, there were no nightmares of Jess' death. "Besides, you probably wouldn't get up anyway. I didn't know you enjoyed cuddling so much. Would've gotten separate rooms."

And just like that the moment of concern and display of affection is over, the time for bantering and keeping the pride of the men's masculinity has returned. Despite that, both brothers grin.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."


End file.
